


Pear-Shaped

by GuileandGall



Series: An Arrow for Directness [1]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Canon-Typical, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: Deputy Tayen Quick finds herself thrust into the middle of a cult uprising and at a crossroads of conscience and self-preservation. It turns out to be a defining moment for her and the citizens of this picturesque part of Montana.
Series: An Arrow for Directness [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729924
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Pear-Shaped

**Author's Note:**

> The first in a series of one-shots that piece together Deputy Tayen Quick’s responses and adventures in Hope County and the Holland Valley—before, during, and after the Reaping by the Project of Eden’s Gate and the Seed Family. It is fairly canon-typical, but knowing how I tend to do things, it is not unlikely for there to be canon divergence and rewriting.

**-1-**

_Warrant service. Helicopter crash. Shoot outs and a car chase. Driving off a bridge into the river._ Deputy Tayen Quick’s head was still spinning even though the adrenaline had stopped pumping and the world seemed not to be gunning specifically for her for a few seconds. A radio broadcast told her she was still on the minds of the group from Eden’s Gate—after all their preacher, Joseph Seed, had started the Reaping, whatever that was, and now he had them looking for her, presumably to add her to his collection of law enforcement prisoners. It made her head pound worse.

Dutch had proved convincing enough to trust, but it was more than that. She couldn’t get it out of her head. That voice, Joseph’s singing. Even as she stripped out of her uniform, the glint of the star she’d worn on her chest gleaming in the low light of the bunker caught her eye. Her thumb ran over the flag on the shoulder. She’d been wearing that for nearly 15 years before she took this job—12 years in the service and 3 on the force back home.

 _S_ inking to the floor, she leaned against the cold lockers. The sensation grounded her. She laid her head back against the metal and closed her eyes. “You came out here because it was supposed to be quiet.”

Dutch’s voice carried down the hall. “This place was never quiet.”

Her head snapped toward the sound, but he wasn’t anywhere near her. She sat and listened.

“That’s just an illusion city folk have about the country. They think all this space, big sky, mountains, and wilderness makes for a quiet, pastoral existence. It’s not really true. On the surface, it might look like that. But most of the time, the only difference is that people are just too far away to see the real shit.”

He sighed. “That’s what happened with those Eden Gate people. No one batted an eye when they built their church. Or their commune. They kept to themselves mostly. Sure, they held their revivals, but there’s not a church in 300 miles that doesn’t do that. No one realized anything was askew until it was too late.”

“Then the marshal came in with his warrant and we kicked the shit out of the hornet’s nest,” she added.

“Yeah,” he said. There was accusation in the tone of his voice, but that wasn’t all. She couldn’t put her finger on what else she thought she heard.

“Yeah, well. I told you I’d help as best I can.”

“And if that’s not enough?” he asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She didn’t get an answer. His boot falls moved down the hall, leaving her to imagine all on her own.

His bunker reminded her too much of her own place—bare, sparse furnishings, pictures of old friends all in uniform, a few plaques and commendations. It was almost like looking into her own future, and it gave Tayen the chills. Turning her back on the decor, she stared into the locker. She stripped down and traded her uniform pants for a pair of standard issue camo trousers. Of course, they were not her size, but she used her own belt to cinch them up. She pulled on a black tank top and slid into a red and black flannel shirt which she left unbuttoned and untucked.

Stepping back into her boots, Deputy Quick shuffled down the hall, leaving behind the trappings of her position—for now. Dutch was right, wandering around the county in her uniform was going to paint a bigger bolder target on her back, and she didn’t need that. Not if she was going to get help.

“Hey,” Tayen said, as she stopped in the doorway. Her eyes darted around the room, taking it all in. The bank of ham and CB radios, the map with photos and pins galore, sparsely populated shelves, a gun safe—this guy was prepared for some next level shit to go down. She’d heard of prepper types, but this felt extreme. “Um,” she said when he didn’t answer, “you got anything down here to eat.”

Dutch, staring at the radios that only belched out static, turned his head and sighed. “Next door down. Start with the cans first.”

She gave him a nod, pushing a hand through her chin length inky black hair before she moved. The events of the night before drained her, physically and emotionally. In the kitchen/living area, she found a can of stew easy enough and a can opener. Once the smell hit her, her stomach rumbled and twisted into knots at the same time as a dilemma formed in her addled mind—eat it cold or warm it up.

“You can wait two fricken minutes, Tayen,” she told herself, opting for a bowl and sticking it in the microwave. Dutch checked on her a little later, as she was inhaling the calories needed to refuel her.

He said nothing and just walked over and tapped the button under a blinking light on his answering machine. A woman’s voice, frantic and afraid filled the room. It stopped the deputy’s scarfing and she stared at the device, clearly affected by what she was hearing. She might not know Rae-Rae, but it was clear by that message that something was off.

“People here could use your help here, deputy.”

She let go of her spoon and leaned back against the counter. “Don’t you think the best way I can help them is to let people know what’s going on?”

“Before the radio signals went to shit, I heard dozens of calls saying that the tunnel out of the valley was blocked. And three maydays from local pilots saying they’d been shot at and were going down.”

The bowl rested against the side of her thigh, as she pressed her fingers over her forehead.

“You know what I’m saying, girl.” His eyes flicked from her face to the black ink peeking out from beneath her rolled up sleeve. “You’ve been there before.”

“Yeah, I have, old man.” She straightened, tension rolling her shoulders back. “That part of my life is over.” Her feet carried her to the sink where she deposited the half-eaten bowl of stew. Both her palms pressed against the counter as she leaned there. “And I got no intention of going back into hell,” she muttered.

“Might be too late for that.”

Deep down, she knew he was right. She’d seen that compound, seen Joseph riling his forces and setting them loose. She’d been shot at and nearly killed a dozen times the night before. Somehow, _she_ managed to not wind up captured or dead. Yeah, this was as deep as any other hell she had ever known.

She let out a long exhale and leaned on her elbows. Dutch just patted her on the shoulder and left her with her thoughts. Time seemed to stand still as she stared at the rust gathering at the edge of the sink where it met the countertop. It took her longer than she would ever own up to, but eventually, she came around, but she was determined to do it _right_.

 _Whatever that meant._ She was an officer of the peace, not a soldier under orders. Her job was to protect these people. Of course, she didn’t know precisely what that meant or how it would have to look. With her decision made, Tayen grabbed her bowl and wandered down the hall back to Dutch’s control room, as she deemed it.

“All right. Fill me in.”

Dutch turned and gave her a grim nod. “This is what I’ve been able to piece together so far,” he began.

The deputy listened intently, occasionally jotting notes on the pad she always carried when she was on shift. Something told her this was going to be the never-ending shift from hell.

**-2-**

Less than 300 yards from the door of Dutch’s bunker, Tayen got to see traces of the Peggie’s Reaping.

“No, don’t!”

She froze at the scream. It was followed by the telltale sound of flesh on flesh, a punch more likely. The groaning resounded through the trees. She crept forward as quietly as she could manage.

“You will repent,” a wild-haired, bearded man told a captive who was kneeling in the mud with his hands behind his back.

“I didn’t do anything to deserve this,” the man replied.

Her hand went to her sidearm, well, Dutch’s pistol really. Her teeth ground together as she considered it. The cult members were both armed. Even if she shot first, one of them could still get lucky and get a shot off. With a slow exhale, she looked around her on the ground. Finding a weighty limb with a good bit of heft to it, she moved through the brush as the man and his prisoner continued to argue.

She knew she would have to move fast. At the edge of the high grass, she darted at the woman, whose back was to her and bashed her with a two-handed swing of the branch she’d found. Then she took two steps and sprang at the man. He dropped his pistol when she got her arm around his neck.

The captive threw himself backward to avoid the pair.

Using her body against his in a way to facilitate leverage on her hold, his clawing soon turned toward patting. Then his hands slid away from her arm as his knees buckled. Tayen Quick didn’t release him until they were both on the ground. Once the man was down, she finally loosened her grip and checked his pulse. The slow thud under her fingertips was a relief.

“Is he—?” the captive asked.

“Breathing,” she replied.

“Christ.”

Her hands frisked over the man’s back, pulling extra clips from a pocket of his cargo pants. She also stripped him of a pocketknife and a pair of flex cuffs, which she tightened around the unconscious man’s wrists before flipping him over. She inspected the knife; it was rusty and dull and probably couldn’t cut through room temperature butter. “Who the hell goes into the woods without a knife?” she muttered at his complete ridiculousness.

She moved to the man in khaki and sawed at the duct tape around his wrists with the shitty pocketknife she’d found on the captor.

“Thank God you were out here,” the captive said. He rubbed at his wrists once she finally got him free. He just stared at her as she moved away from him.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’d you come from?” she asked.

“Working at the park observatory up on the hill. They just came out of nowhere.”

“How many?” Her questions and her tone were curt as she moved to the other cult member. Her fingers searched for a pulse first. Her shoulders shrank when she didn’t find one. This wasn’t what her job was supposed to look like, she recalled as she crouched over the body. Her gaze flicked back to the unconscious one. She couldn’t leave him anything he could use to hurt anyone.

“Dozen. They were just suddenly there. I never saw them coming.” The man shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Not that I ever thought to look,” he muttered.

“And why would you?” she asked, glancing up at him with her hands in the dead woman’s pockets.

He huffed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Look, I have … well, had some supplies up there. You’re welcome to anything you might need. Anything the Peggies didn’t already take.”

“Appreciate it,” Tayen said with a genuine smile.

“Least I could do,” he replied.

She laughed wryly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my job.”

Grabbing the pistols, the two had been carrying, she offered one to the ranger as they hiked up the hill. “You know how to use one of these?” she asked.

“C’mon, miss. I’m from these parts. Grew up shooting.”

“Well, then here you go, but try to keep your head down.”

He nodded. “For sure.” They continued on in silence. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you leave that guy tied up back there?”

Tayen’s smooth gait stuttered. And the first answer that came to mind, _because I_ _’m not a murderer_ , was immediately countered by the realization that she had, not seconds before choking that guy out, killed his backup. “I just …” She searched her mind for a reasonable response. “I’m with the Sheriff’s office,” she finally said like it was a perfectly valid explanation.

While he nodded, the knit of his brow told her it didn’t really make sense to him either.

“I’m supposed to protect and serve, not kill with impunity,” she added.

“Don’t think I’m not grateful, because I am. Really. I’d be dead or who knows where if you hadn’t come along. I was just … curious.”

Quick nodded. “Yeah, I get it.” And while she understood the impetus for the question; her answer to it still left her a little stumped, even if it felt right. She wasn’t an executioner, wasn’t a soldier anymore, she was a cop—meant to protect the people not be their executioner. She rubbed at the back of her neck and mounted the stairs once they reached the station.


End file.
